


Whatever Helps You Sleep At Night

by eerian_sadow



Series: Nobilius [9]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Child Abuse, Community: hc_bingo, Gen, hunger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 15:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12584584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: Prowl's carrier has just passed on to the Well and his entire life has been turned upside down. He wants love, affection and safety but his sire wants nothing to do with him at all.





	Whatever Helps You Sleep At Night

**Author's Note:**

> for hc_bingo over on Dreamwidth, filling my "hunger" square.
> 
> On-screen child abuse in this one, be warned.

Prowl bit his lip as he stood outside the kitchen. The sparkling was hungry, but he didn't want to bother the other staff now that his carrier wasn't there to give him snacks or drinks. He didn't want to bother his sire, either, not with something so small.

A bit of fuel wasn't worth a slap across the face, like he had gotten when he asked for another blanket.

“Lord Prowl!” One of the serving mechs almost ran into him as he rushed through the door. “For the love of… go upstairs with your family for dinner! You can't eat in the kitchens like one of us anymore.”

“Oh.” Prowl ducked his head and tried not to cry again. He didn't like that the staff acted different now than they had before his carrier died. He didn't like being the Young Lord, even if it was actually true. 

He just wanted to be Prowl, and sit in the kitchen eating warm pastry and singing along with his carrier’s work songs again.

“Go!” The serving mech said sharply. “Primus knows Lord Strikefast will find enough reasons to be angry without you being late for dinner.”

The sparkling nodded and turned away. His sire _would_ get angry at the staff if he was late for dinner. At him, too, but Prowl tried not to think about that.

He trudged down the hall, trying to calm his fuel tanks by trying to guess what the chef had made for dinner.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The dining hall was huge, and filled with mechs of all shapes and sizes. He recognized a few--people his carrier had met with regularly to order supplies from or who had been trying to curry favor with his sire with specialty foods--but none of them acknowledged him as he stepped timidly into the room. He could see his sire at the big table, the one sitting on the marble block that lifted it a meter above the others. He thought he could see his oldest brother, too, but he wasn’t certain.

The black and white sparkling bit his lip again, trying to find the courage to walk across the room to the big table. When his fuel tank stabbed him painfully, so empty now that it hurt, he started walking. 

His sire didn’t notice him at first, though his brothers both saw him and waved. Streetstar even pushed the chair next to him out from the table slightly, silently asking Prowl to sit next to him. It made Prowl want to cry; he hadn’t even known that Streetstar liked him enough to want to sit together at dinner.

Cautiously, prowl climbed into the offered chair. Streetstar grabbed his hand and squeezed it, and Bluestreak peeked over his brother’s head and smiled.

Then their sire’s fist slammed into the table and the dining hall fell silent.

“ _What_ ,” Lord Strikefast spat, “Is that _mongrel_ doing at my table?”

“I invited him,” Streetstar defended immediately. “I thought it would be nice to have dinner with my brother.”

Prowl looked down at the table, wings lowered submissively. He bit his lip again, and tried not to cry again. He just wanted to eat, not make his sire angry.

“You thought it would be _nice_? Nice, to embarrass me by flaunting a half-breed, who thinks he deserves a title and a share of your inheritance?”

“I wanted him to come, too.” Bluestreak climbed out of his chair and walked to Prowl’s other side. The black and white sparkling couldn't hold back a sob when his oldest brother reached out and took his free hand. “I want my brothers to both sit with me for dinner.”

“How dare you.” There were murmured whispers as the Lord’s chair scraped away from the table. Prowl sobbed again as he heard heavy footsteps approaching his position. “You ungrateful whelp!”

Bluestreak’s hand tightened briefly around Prowl’s before he cried out in pain. The black and white sparkling looked up as the silver sparkling’s hand was pulled out of his grasp. 

Strikefast used his grip on his sparkling’s wings to throw Bluestreak off the marble platform. “Get out of my sight!”

The older sparkling climbed carefully to his feet, wings hanging limply against his back. He flinched back as the Lord pulled his hand back to slap him and took a few steps toward a side door that Prowl hadn’t noticed before. “I’m sorry, Prowl.”

Prowl thought he knew what he was apologizing for--not being able to keep him safe--and he shook his head minutely. His brother didn’t need to apologize for what their sire was doing.

Streetstar’s hand tightened around his. 

“Get out!” Lord Strikefast shouted again, taking a step toward the silver sparkling.

Bluestreak turned and ran. Prowl bit his lip again, but didn’t look away as their sire turned his attention back to him. 

Strikefast glared at Prowl, but looked away a moment later to focus on Streetstar. “You do not ever invite anyone to sit at my table again.”

“Y-yes, sire.” The white sparkling tightened his grip again, almost enough to hurt, but Prowl didn’t make a sound. If holding on that tightly made his brother feel braver, than the black and white sparkling would let him. “I’m sorry.”

“Never again.” Strikefast stepped behind Streetstar and dragged him out of his chair by his wings the way he had bluestreak. Streetstar whimpered in pain as his hand was pulled out of his brother’s. “Get out.”

Prowl trembled as he heard his brother’s rapid running footsteps, then the heavier tread of his sire turning back to him. The black and white sparkling braced himself as much as he could, but he still cried out when his Lord Strikefast grabbed his wings and used them to lift him out of his chair.

“And you. How dare you try to take my time with my heirs.” The adult shook the sparkling roughly, wrenching his wings and making Prowl cry out in pain again. “You are not welcome in this room. You are not allowed to dine with me or anyone else in this room. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sire.” 

“And do not ever call me that again.” Strikefast flung him to the floor. Prowl hissed as his injured wings were aggravated at the impact.“You may share spark lineage, but you are not my sparkling.”

The young mech nodded from his sprawl on the floor. “I’m sorry, Lord Strikefast. I won’t do it again.”

“Good. Get out.” The Lord stomped back to his seat, then looked around at the silently staring guests. “Well? What are you all staring at?”

The guests in the hall began turning away as Prowl slowly climbed to his feet. Their chatter resumed, quieter this time, as he made his way to the door.

When he stepped into the hallway, Bluestreak and Streetstar were gone.

His fuel tank chose that moment to remind him painfully that it was still empty. Prowl let himself cry, tears of frustration and pain rolling down his face.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Prowl was curled up in his too-thin blanket, trying hard not to think about how hungry he was or how much he missed his carrier when there was a soft knock at his door. He didn't want to answer it; it was late and moving made the pain in his fuel tank worse. 

Bue he also didn’t want to be alone anymore.

“Prowl? It’s me, Bluestreak. Can I come in?” His brother sounded nervous through the door.

“Yes.” Prowl bit his lip and scrubbed the coolant tracks off his face with his blanket. His brother didn’t need to see that he had been crying. “You can come in.”

“I brought you some fuel,” The silver mech said after he opened the door and stepped into Prowl’s small room. “The servants always feed us after sire has had one of his fits, but I didn’t think you would know that yet.”

“They said I couldn't eat in the kitchen anymore, because I have to be one of the Lords now.” Prowl took the plate of energon gels gratefully, and popped one into his mouth before his brother could change his mind.

“That’s dumb. You ate there all the time before Confection passed on to the Well, and you were a Lord then, even if you didn't know it.” Bluestreak sat down next to him and wrapped an arm carefully around Prowl’s back as the younger mech ate. “We’ll go down and talk to them together when you’re done, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And if you feel up to it, we can play games or read with Streetstar before bed.”

“Okay.” Prowl kept eating, not sure if he was responding the right way to keep his oldest brother from getting angry.

“We’ll take care of you, Prowl. Even when sire doesn’t. I promise.”

Bluestreak’s words lifted his spark, but Prowl knew better than to hope now.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry to anyone who was waiting on the next chapter of "Only A Day Away". This fic needed to happen first, to make some of the events of the next installment make more sense.


End file.
